


How to Keep a Secret

by Tacti



Category: Emelan - Tamora Pierce
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2014-08-18
Packaged: 2018-02-13 16:09:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2156904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tacti/pseuds/Tacti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Briar Moss were to be romantically involved with any of his sisters, it would be Sandry. That's what everyone thought, anyway. Maybe because the idea of a former streetrat and an heiress was romantic. But they certainly didn't expect...this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How to Keep a Secret

   “The sales records, as you requested,” Briar said with a mock bow. He placed papers full of numbers – his sales of trees he'd shaped with his magic – on the desk. The only reply he got from its occupant was a “ _mm_ ” _._ Someone else might've said they'd get to looking at the numbers later. But not this one. The papers were only set down so that Briar could replace the empty mug of tea sitting on the edge of the desk with a fresh one. There was no spoken thanks, only a nod before the accountant took a sip and reached for the records. Briar waited for pale brows to come together and for a permanent frown to deepen.

  “You've made much more than usual.”

  “It was a profitable month,” Briar answered smoothly. Sharp eyes narrowed at him over spectacles.

  “You're up to something.”

  “Always,” Briar smiled, extending an arm. “Shall we go for a walk? You've been hunched over that desk for hours.” His manners were a product of Sandry. She didn't often have free time, so when Briar wanted to see her in person, he had to go to court. A white hand found its way to Briar's brown arm. Again, a frown passed over the other party's features. Briar pretended not to notice, of course.

Much like a plant, Briar craved sunshine. He couldn't stay indoors day in and day out. He kept his pace slow, but didn't stop until they were well away from anything man-made. “Are those astilbe? In _**full sunlight**_? The poor things.” He may as well have dragged his weary tag-along to the distressed flora. The airy purple flowers were meant to grow in the shade, and in moist soil. Briar had heard them complaining about being hot and thirsty. In the summer heat, some of them had even collapsed. They were delighted to see him, though they shrank back a bit from the other human guest. “You know who you should be afraid of? My sister, Daja. She's a smith mage. Tramples and burns flowers all the time. She doesn't _mean_ to, of course. She's just got a lot of herself to cart 'round. She's almost as tall as me! And probably the only one who could best me at one-on-one combat.”

While he was talking, Briar had used his magic to coax up the flowers without damaging their roots. The non-plant mage watched in silence, seeming almost amused when the man glanced out of the corner of his eye. Amused and then startled.

  “Why are they here?” Briar, having completed the re-planting process sent some of his magic into the collapsed flowers to give them more energy. They immediately straightened and colour returned to their stalks.

  “Since they're here already, let's go say hello.” There it was. That stubborn look and feet rooted to the spot. He could easily pick her up, but that would be at the cost of her trust, which was too great a sum for Briar to pay.

  “Found them!” a voice called. They turned to find the young Duchess of Emelan n horseback. She was wearing clothes that were simple, yet free of a single wrinkle. They seemed to reflect the very sun. She looked very small in comparison to the next rider. If one had to pick which they thought was the ruler, they might have picked Daja in that moment. She was tall and stately, the beads in her many braids clinking as she slowed her horse to a halt. Briar frowned. It looked like the black woman had gotten even taller than him.

  “Why did you both have to come?”

  “Why, because today is a **very** important day!” Sandry remarked.

  “We brought you food and everyone pitched in on a single gift, so don't get mad.” Daja had dismounted and was helping Sandry do the same. She then unloaded the saddle bags to spread out blankets under the shade of a big tree and set out treats so that the four of them could have a picnic.

  “...I hate it when the three of you conspire,” the fourth woman muttered, sitting down in a huff.

  “Do you know how _HARD_ it is to keep a secret from someone who scries the future on the wind?” Briar demanded, taking his place beside her. And then, in a softer voice: “This day is important to me. I hoped it would be for you, too.” He held out both hands to her.

  “You're all sentimental fools.” She blushed, but took his hands anyway. The air around Briar was practically buzzing.

  “Your Grace, Daja, I present Trisana Chandler. My wife.” The other girls cheered and called for a kiss. Briar laughed. “I ain't a _hamot_ ,” he said, using the word for 'idiot' in Tradertalk. “Or maybe I am. It sure felt good to get to call her that all open-like.” Briar typically only reverted to street slang when he was excited, and Tris couldn't suppress her smile at that thought. Subtly, she squeezed his hands before withdrawing hers. 

  "It seems like we're all fools. Four adults, having a picnic?" Tris shook her head, and her husband and their sisters laughed. 


End file.
